Ambition
by LilyandIvy
Summary: You've come so far, so fast. The whole world is watching you now. So take care not to trip.
1. A Wedding

**A/N: Hey guys, it's me. "Akachan" is on brief hold, and will be updated as soon as I can get back into loving Skip Beat again. To help me get there, I wrote this lovely little piece, which had been on my mind for quite some time. What can I say, I love these kinds of stories. And the _characters..._  
**

**Also, I will warn you that you, as the reader, will probably be confused at some point in time. Don't worry; I wrote it that way, to keep you guys disoriented (I love you all, I really do, it's just fun to mess around with your minds...and I mean that with all the love in my heart.) But I promise that I will connect every dot at some point, so really, just keep your eyes on the screen. It _will_ all make sense eventually. Trust me. (And if anyone wants to leave their guesses and theories, feel free to do so in a PM or review. I want to see what you guys come up with. Though I will say that, whether it's because this is poorly written or just the fact that I'm the author, it all seems so obvious to me.) That being said, if you become really confused, then, by all means, PM me and I'll explain away. Also, if you would all mind at least reading to the second chapter, things become much more clear there. This first part is probably the most disorienting of the whole fic. So, please, enjoy. :)  
**

**_Italicized sentences are thoughts, unless they are in quotations. Then it's emphasized speech._  
**

"_I love weddings!"_ she sang, twirling round, round, round, _round_ the church. Smiling, she danced to a stop in front of the man, slightly out of breath and layered skirt still swirling around her legs.

"Really?" the man said, smiling the gentle, handsome smile that he just _knew _made her heart beat a little faster and her thoughts a little muddled. Still smiling, he leaned in close, freshly pressed tuxedo crinkling in the action, and whispered in her ear: "Well then, I suppose we'll just have to give _you_ one someday."

She could only manage a breathy, rather girlish giggle as her mind took in so many things at once: the smell of his cologne, the tickly caress of his hair, the color of his beautiful eyes, the promise in his words. Her mind swirled with the combination, her soul sang in triumphant joy. And if she could just reach up a little farther, raise her head a little more, she could kiss his lips, and her whole being would come apart.

As if knowing her thoughts, and knowing the presence of the many, many others in the room, he gave her the chastest kiss that not even a nun could blush at, and pulled his body upright again. Annoyance flashed across her face, and her lips pulled together in a pout. Her thoughts ran in one, rather obvious direction: _Stupid man so stuck on stupid propriety. Why can't we kiss now? Who cares who's watching? I love you, so let me kiss you, damn you!  
_

"Dearest," he said, smiling another smile, this time more gentle, less intimate, and infinitely more aggravating, "As much as I love you, even I have to admit that today _isn't_ your day."

Now quite thoroughly annoyed, her pout became more pronounced, and she was a step closer to losing her temper. _She'll never forgive us if we cause a scene on her wedding, of all days. _His mind raced, fitting together words and phrases that would abort the fit he knew she was about to throw. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand to her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. His lips parted, the chosen words dancing on his tongue, when she cocked her head, smiled, and danced the few steps remaining between them, now standing by his side. His hand, fallen from her face in shock, was caught by her small hands, and squeezed with childlike affection.

"You haven't told me, you know."

He looked down, disguising the gesture as a question while looking for signs of discontent, vexation, dissatisfaction, _anything_ that would indicate that she was still lingering on her displeasure. Finding none of those indicators was far more unsettling than he was comfortable with. Either she had decided to forgive and forget (unlikely) or she was merely biding her time before she had just cause to make her grievances known. And then it would be in a loud, window-shattering sort of way.

"What haven't I told you yet?"

"Who this woman is. I don't know anything about her, yet I'm here on her wedding day!" Her eyebrows were furrowed, drawing a rather unattractive aura over her otherwise pretty face (although he would sooner sell his soul than tell her _that_.)

"You don't need to know her, love. My brother's the one you know who will be married today. It's not important that you don't know her."

She rolled her eyes, then shot him a wounded look. "I am a woman attending another woman's wedding — and I don't know the bride. I'm surprised I even made it this far without God striking me down with holy lightning."

He laughed at that – the idea of God taking in interest in the sisterhood of wedding-attending women. _Somehow, I think he's just as willing to stay out of _that _minefield as every other man._

"Do you want me to tell you something of her, so you won't be totally out of the loop?"

"Yes! I've been waiting for that for months!" She was put out now, comically. And now he knew she was play-acting. He felt comfortable looking away from her.

"All right..." _Where to begin? The woman is a regular demoness, for Christ's sake. Forget a woman not knowing the bride of the wedding; I'll be surprised if _she_ gets through the doors of the church without bursting into flame. _"...she's a businesswoman originally. That's how the met, you know — when their companies negotiated a trade. I don't know how they began seeing each other from there, though. I've heard that they argued pretty fiercely in the meeting rooms."

He glanced back down at her, gauging her reaction. Her eyes were nearly as huge as her earrings, and her mouth was curving into the sweet, naïve smile of a schoolgirl who is listening to some romantic adventure. He took that as a good sign, though he had no inkling what detail had captured her imagination.

"But I _do_ know that he introduced her to our parents last year sometime, and I know that Father has been pressing for a wedding ever since then. Apparently she made _quite _the impression." _Or he just knows that she's ten times more intelligent than his eldest son, and infinitely more crafty. Perhaps he fears that if my brother didn't marry her now, willingly, she'd find a way to force him into one, at the expense of his family name._ He gestured to their seats, and she took the hint. After they were seated, he leaned in closer, as if he were merely trying to keep from disturbing the other attendees, a move that no octogenarian Puritan could find fault in, and whispered: "Do you want to know a secret, love?"

"What is it?" she asked, eyes still lost to her own fantasy imaginings of the perfect love she imagined between the soon-to-be-married couple.

"I've heard that her parents are teachers."

"Professors?"

"No. Teachers. High school, public-education, poor-money _teachers. _She earned her way to an MA in Business Administration through part-time jobs and merit-based scholarships. Since then, she's done well, but look around. How many people do you see from _her_ side?"

Disbelief etched on her face like a masquerade mask, she glanced around the church hall, still rumbling with hushed conversation, still a few minutes before the ceremony began. Slowly, drop by drop, the disbelief faded as she saw how, one-by-one, she recognized every person in the hall, all through the parties and gatherings she had attended as the guest of the man standing next to her. And the place normally reserved for the bride's parents was ominously filled with the groom's elder sister and her brood.

"No...look! That man over there, third pew, green tie! Who's _he?"_

Turning, he followed her gaze, and smirked when he saw the man she was singling out.

"That's her assistant, from the first business she started in Japan."

"Ha! See, she has someone from her side here," she folded her arms in victory, then asked: "She's Japanese?"

"Yes...I can't remember what city, originally, though I know it wasn't Tokyo. But he's the only one from her side present. Everyone else you see are people who know my brother," He dropped his voice again, this time to a conspiratorial whisper, "So you probably aren't alone in your ignorance."

"But why would her assistant be here and not her family?" she whispered back, too stubborn to let go of a dead topic.

He blinked. "All I know about the assistant is that he'll fly out tonight, but he'll be joining her here in a few months, after he finishes his affairs in Japan. He'll continue working for her in the company my parents are giving her for a wedding present. But, you know, she hasn't said a word about her family at all. Nothing at all. Any guesses as to why, love?"

She turned back to him, surprise and delight shining from her face. She was too good of a soul to recognize the possible scandal involved, to see that this woman may be more than just another blushing bride today...and perhaps that innocence would be a character flaw too great to ignore. _Could he marry a woman so utterly without guile or suspicion? Could he marry a child, a _child, _granted clothed in an adult's body?_ But, for now, he merely smiled as he would to a co-conspirator, and watched as the answering smile lit up her face.

"A marriage between classes...forbidden love!' she whispered.

_Or just one woman's vaulting ambitions_.

The organ started, the parishioner glided across the stage-like lectern, and the ceremony began.

_Too late to worry about that now. Just smile and act like the groom's brother should._


	2. Palone: 1

_ In a few months' time, Nathaniel Palone, the younger brother of the newlywed Antony Palone, would, regrettably, break up with his girlfriend of two years, Nicole Wilson. Although friends and family of Miss Wilson claimed that the ensuing depressive spell she endured was normal, considering the circumstances, and that they expected her to "get over it," Miss Wilson attempted suicide by hanging on December 25__th__, 1983 in her apartment in downtown New York City. She was discovered by her long-time friend Mrs. Lily Ramsay, and rushed to New York Downtown Hospital. There, she was put under heavy sedatives after she attacked the RN and raving of her conviction that she would one day marry Mr. Palone. During her stay at NYDH, she suffered from increasingly severe panic attacks and an irrational fear of get-well balloons. The few who were allowed to visit her feared that she would never recover.  
_

_It was at this time that she met Dr. Ronald Warmbrodt, a psychologist who later diagnosed her with several psychological disorders, none of which shall be listed here. After her physical recovery from her suicide attempt was complete, she was admitted to the Willow Life Mental Health Clinic outside of Manchester, New Hampshire. Mr. Palone took some responsibility for her state of mental health, claiming that he should have broken the news in a more gentle fashion, and is paying for her expenses there. _

_ If only the marriage of Antony and Elizabeth Palone had gone so well._


	3. A Discussion

"Allen, how would you feel if you managed Hachiko for me?"

The man took a moment, caught off-guard by both the suddenness of the question and the insanity of the content.

"Hachiko?"

"Yes, Hachiko."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"_Management?_"

"Yes, management. Did I hire a dunce when I hired you, Allen?"

"But Sa...Ms. Elizabeth, why won't you continue to manage it yourself?"

The woman, young, attractive enough, educated beyond the Palones' imaginings and with more experience than they could possibly know, hesitated over her answer.

"Because," she said in hushed Japanese, the first he had heard his native tongue in over two months, "I am the wife of the heir to a business supergiant. You know how large the Palones are, Riku, and you know how large I wish them to be one day. I've come far; I can go farther. My first test is to run Cromley Printing successfully. If I can double business-" Allen's eyes grew large as he thought of Cromley Printing's demographics and charts. To double _that_ business would be a feat worthy of a mythical hero. "-I am that much farther to becoming so ingrained in the Palone family they will never think of a life without me. And that is precisely where I need to be. I cannot afford to be distracted by Hachiko now."

"But..."

"I am not handing the company over to you. I will still own it — on paper. Any large affairs will have to be approved by me before you speak to anyone else about it. But, in day to day matters, I shall entrust Hachiko to you. So don't let me down, okay_?"_

"I...I see. Well then, Ms. Elizabeth, I will gladly handle Hachiko for you."

"I thought you would, Allen," She nodded her head, and he could just barely see the tiny upturn at the corner of her eye that meant she knew that she had judged well, and was satisfied.

Outside the tinted windows, the scenery changed from urban highway to airport parking, and she turned back to him to wish him a safe journey. He thanked her for her concern, and had the chauffeur carry in his luggage. After a turbulent flight, a five-hour layover in Los Angeles, and a night pressed between the window and a rather portly tourist, Akiyama Riku, or Allen Mackery as he was known to the English-speaking world, finally returned home after two and a half months spent bouncing between New York City and Washington D.C. And he knew that this was only the beginning.

* * *

A/N: _Hachiko_ is the name of a dog owned by Professor Ueno, who lived in Tokyo in the 1920's. Every day he would take Hachiko with him to the train station, where he would leave for work, and every night, when he came back, Hachiko would be there, because the dog knew that, at a certain time, his master would be at the train station. One day, though, Professor Ueno suffered a heart attack at the university and was rushed to the hospital, where he died. But Hachiko didn't know this (how do you tell a dog that his master has died?) and so, for the next nine years, Hachiko would be at the train station at the exact time that the train which was supposed to be carrying his master arrived (this was before all those pesky laws about pets in train stations.) The public caught wind of this, and started leaving food and water for Hachiko, to nourish him while he waited for his master. In the last year of Hachiko's life, a bronze statue was erected, commemorating the dog's faithfulness. Hachiko has since died (in 1935) but the statue is still there, in Shibuya station in Tokyo. Because of its rather iconic image, it is a popular meeting spot. For more information, see the Wiki page or other resources on the web.

In chapter 152 of the manga, Kyoko's "dangerous" mission has her meeting Cain Heel at the Hachiko statue in Shibuya station.


	4. Akiyama Riku

_Akiyama Satoru, owner of a moderately successful textbook distribution company, married Taguchi Yukiko on the 31__st__ of April, 1953. They were as happy as any other newlywed couple; in the first year of their marriage, Mrs. Akiyama became pregnant and gave birth to Akiyama Riku. The first memory the adult Riku could remember was standing at the street crossings, holding his mother's hand, and looking over his shoulder to see the small, rather shabby sign that proclaimed the residence of Akiyama Textbooks, and she told him that one day he would inherit that company. Years later, he could recall the disappointment that settled in his mouth like a tonic. Bitter, with the promise to one day become rancid. Out of every company in the world to inherit, he gets the one with the dirty sign and peeling door.  
_

_But Riku never rebelled against his fate, as a few of his peers did in their teenage years, but calmly and rationally completed school, as valedictorian, and went on to college, where he majored in business administration. During his school breaks and after he earned his degree, he worked as an assistant in his father's company before Satoru died of a stroke on the 21__st__ of August, 1980, whereupon Riku assumed the position of chairman of Akiyama Textbooks._

_ But it was several years earlier, in 1976, his final year of college, that he met her. She was two years older than him, and though his drinking friends all said she was attractive, the first thing Riku noticed about her was her eyes. She was cold. At times, she could dress herself up in a warm exterior, fool the world around her, but whenever she looked at Riku — really _looked_ at him — he shivered. If anyone thought she was anything but, that only went to prove that she was an incredible actress. But she didn't feel emotion for anyone or anything, unless it was connected with her ambition. There, into that dream that she held onto so desperately, she poured everything. Riku understood this, and never brought up the question of a romantic relationship. He wasn't brave enough to want to see her cold eyes when he woke up.  
_

_ But she saw something in him, and so helped him. She encouraged him in his own, far lesser, ambitions, and their unique, indefinable relationship began. They met, they discussed, they argued, they came to conclusions. Though he completed each of his college courses without complaint, he felt that his education shifted from what he and his peers were learning in the classroom to what he learned simply by having a beer with her in a bar and talking about business. He began to know her, and he began to fear her. He knew that she had some sort of power, one that went beyond the mostly-bright, sometimes-unethical world of "moderately successful" business. And he had proof, no matter how flimsy, and no matter how inconsequential before a jury. _

_For instance, in his first year of work at Akiyama Textbooks, an interesting phenomenon occured. In Akiyama's client schools, attendance jumped by 4%, and a closer examination of the demographics from 1976 to 1977 showed that an increased number of lower-class children — those who were suspected of, but without enough conclusive evidence to bring a formal charge to, being former druggies, gang members, prostitutes, et al, — attended in 1977. And the vast majority of these children went to school on need-based scholarship provided by a private individual, identity undisclosed. When he told an incredible story of a 15-year-old boy who had been kicked out of school for carrying a steel pipe on campus, but had come back to the school at age 17, well-dressed, clean, respectful, and had asked to be readmitted, she only smiled and nodded. Her reaction only confirmed what his intuition, feeble and unreliable thing that it was, had been telling him for quite some time. The next year, 1978, saw an additional 7% increase, and Akiyama Textbooks was able to branch out into two new cities: Osaka and Kyoto. _

_ On 14__th__ of October, 1979, they met in Tokyo, in the district called Shibuya, for one of their regular meetings, and she asked him for monetary aid. She was founding a company, she said, and she would greatly appreciate the help. Akiyama had done well for a handful of years now, and he knew who to thank for that. He asked her how much she wanted, already withdrawing his checkbook. The figure that came out of her mouth saw the checkbook dropping to the ground. His jaw felt slack, his hands went limp, and his mind raced around that number. Compared to what she would make off the company, and what he would earn off his share, the amount would seem a pittance, but he didn't know that at the time. After his mind stopped racing, all he could say was that in two weeks she would find the money in a storage locker at the train station in Kyoto, one of their many drop-off locations, but only under one condition. He would gladly give her the money, if she would consent to make him her assistant. She smirked, and agreed. Later, she would tell him that he would have inevitably ended up in that position, so it was perhaps for the best that he had asked her that day._

_ Between themselves, they would refer to the company by its nickname, in remembrance of the place where it earned its first financial backer. They called it Hachiko._


	5. A Castle

"You certainly have a beautiful home, Ms. Elizabeth," he said, both out of courtesy and in sardonic reference to the _very _Western décor. He thought of the city they came from, and compared the architecture, but said nothing else.

"Yes, it certainly is, isn't it?" she said, playing the gracious host, "My mother-in-law had it built using the Château de Chenonceau as a model. Of course, it's much smaller than the original, but, still, beautiful."

"You could do quite worse, though, than having a château for a home. Or a replica of one, anyway," he added, looking at everything from the marble trim to the wrought-iron chandelier.

"I probably could," she said, a sarcastic glint in her eyes. Allen remembered the onslaught of lower-class students that brought his business to success, and didn't comment further on the subject.

"So," he began, wary of her mood but frightened of her silences, "why have you brought me here?"

"It was merely a convenient meeting place," she said, gesturing to one of the waiting servants. The servant crossed the room, opened the coat closet, removed one leather jacket, and crossed back towards her, helping her into it. Allen watched her, and knew that this was merely a show, an extravagant act to emphasize the change in her position, but it didn't make it any less impressive. _Someone _he _knew, _had_ known for years, was now being waited on hand and foot._

_ How long would it be before that was _him_ who was being helped into his coat?_

"Allen?"

His thoughts snapped back to reality — her home, her servants, her coat, _her._ A thought crossed his mind.

"Do you know what c_hâteau_ means in the original French?" he asked.

"Castle," she promptly replied, her eyes searching his face for the next question, the next riddle, the next challenge. But what he had to say next was so _simple _her brilliant mind skipped over it.

"Then, shall we away, _my Queen?"_ He held out his arm gallantly, and, with a raised eyebrow, she slipped her arm through his. They walked like that, arm-in-arm, to the waiting limousine. He held the limousine door for her to slide into, and shut it behind him.

"Well, then, _Highness," _he placed faint stress on that last word, "Where to?"

"Cromley," she said, addressing the driver. As the car pulled out of the drive, she put her hand to her face and murmured into her palm, "_Queen_. Of all things..._Queen._"

"How's Cromley going, by the way?" Allen asked, knowing his face was inanely cheerful.

"Excellent, of course; did you expect anything less?" She snapped, rolling her eyes in irritation, a surprisingly immature gesture.

He smirked, and didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride.


	6. Couple 2: Newlyweds

_In another corner of the world, a couple was married that day, the day that Allen first visited Elizabeth's new home, the 8__th__ of July 1983. Both the bride and the groom came from the upper classes of society, but neither of their families' wealth would touch the sheer depth of the Palone family's. But, for them, that was completely fine. They lived comfortably and in dignity in the home he inherited from his grandfather, who had passed away years ago. In his will, his grandfather only had one request of his grandson, the same request that every immediate family member had: carry on the family line. His family was ancient, with a bloodline tracing back centuries. And, throughout this longstanding family history, there wasn't a single misstep in the inheritance. Every father handed off his life's work to his son, and each son took it upon himself to build the family name and fortune greater. Even when the nation industrialized, and the nobility became mere placeholders in society, all this family did was transition into a different sphere of business. And the newlyweds were sure in their ability to carry on that family tradition._

_ But the months went by, and though they tried, the bride did not conceive. They became anxious, and nervous. Of all things, they did not want the shame in the failure of providing the next generation of heirs to burden their shoulders. But they were still very young, and perhaps it was only a lark that she was not yet pregnant. It was entirely possible, after all.  
_

_ Every night, when they lay in their shared bed looking at each other, both were thinking, and fearing, the exact same thing._


	7. A Restaurant

**A/N: After rereading this section, I have come to the conclusion that the only reason this idea even entered my head is because I read too many books about the Tudors when I was young. For all those who have seen _The Other Boleyn Girl, _you'll understand why. ;)  
**

"Ms. Elizabeth," Allen began, the very word "uncertainty' practically written across his face. He was poised on the threshold of her office and the hallway, practically teetering the edge of his imminent damnation, one could argue.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up from the file in front of her.

"Uhm..." Allen said, looking for a way to begin his thoughts without seeming too..._insensitive._ But when the topic of conversation is ill-mannered, coarse, and downright impertinent, insensitivity seems to come with the territory.

"Allen? Is something the matter?"

_This probably isn't the best place to have this conversation._

"Have you taken your lunch yet?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, and his thoughts struggled to catch up with what his heart knew would drag the answer out of her.

"No, I haven't. Is it that late already?" she turned her head to look at the clock on the wall, and was taken aback when she saw that it was only 10:30.

"Allen...isn't it a bit too early for lunch?"

"...I know." _No, he hadn't known, because he didn't think to check before he asked. _

She considered him for a long moment, dark eyes wondering what he could possibly have to say that was so urgent. _Not urgent, Ms. Elizabeth. It's just that if I walk away now I'll never have the courage to say it again. _Her fingers drummed against the table, ever other part of her was motionless, but finally she did stand up and slip on her coat. Breezing past him, she informed her secretary that she would be taking an early lunch today, and that her sister-in-law, Jacqueline, would be calling soon about the list of boarding schools Elizabeth thought would be appropriate for Jacqueline's third eldest child. The information on that could be found on her desk, and should be faxed to her sister-in-law immediately after the call.

With that, she left her office, and Allen trailed after her, feet tripping over themselves and the occasional stair. And, far before he was ready, they were sitting down at a local restaurant, and she was ordering for him.

"Well, then," she said, after the waitress had left, "What do you want with me?"

He sighed, took a drought of coffee, and began a different conversation: "What will be done about Nathaniel?"

Her immediate response was to roll her eyes, that childish gesture again, but she masked her annoyance as soon as the quick gesture was over. She checked over her shoulder briefly, then murmured in a low tone that he could barely hear:

"He's currently in my parents-in-laws' house in Italy. Antony is flying out there tonight, trying to make him see reason. Just because a girl commits suicide – or tries to anyway, it's all one now – the public's feelings towards the Palones are sinking into suspicion. I've heard rumors about everything from abuse to Nathaniel lynching her himself. All ridiculous, of course, but _we can't prove that. _And Nathaniel himself is certainly not helping our case. He believes that the entire situation is entirely his fault – a sentiment I thoroughly believe, by the way, - but the problem is that his guilt is seen as proof positive by the tabloids. Trying to convince them all that his guilt is misplaced is the single most difficult thing that I have ever done. But, in addition to Cromley, Catherine has decided that _I _am to be the one to handle the whole affair."

"Your mother-in-law would be easier on you if you were pregnant," he said softly, hoping the fact that his voice was hushed would muffle the reaction he knew was coming. He didn't look up.

Her eyes flashed with anger, at both this presumption and the truth of the statement. If she were pregnant. _If._

"I assume you've been trying," Allen said, still quietly, with the tiniest attempt at empathy in his voice.

She bristled.

"Of course I've been trying," she said, her voice barely reaching his ears across the table, her anger scratching at his ears, but her pride keeping her voice low, "I've been doing everything in my power to conceive. But no matter how many times I have sex with him, my body remains so stubbornly..._barren."_

"Could...he be impotent?" Allen ventured.

"Could _I_ be impotent?" she replied.

Steam rose from the coffee. Patrons talked amongst themselves. One man attempted to flirt with his waitress, and she stumbled over her words. The cooks in the kitchen argued with their coworkers. Soon, their meal arrived at the table. They ate in silence, until Elizabeth finally spoke again.

"It's odd, isn't it? Hundreds of years ago, a woman wasn't secure in her position until she was married and a mother. And now, for all our innovations and revolutions, for all the change in thought, I still need a child in order to endear myself to my husband's family."

"Is it truly that necessary? Plenty of women never have children in these times."

"No," she shook her head, "I can sit in on their private conferences. I can manage their businesses. I can do their dirty work. I can know every ugly secret. I can hush up this affair with Nicole and Nathaniel, and I will. But Catherine will never accept me as a member of the family until I can prove to her that I am dedicated to it. And what else will be acceptable but a child?"

He laughed, and she snapped up, eyeing him with suspicion and anger. He pushed his plate away, finished his coffee, and said, "In all the time I've known you, I've never imagined you to be the type of woman who would want children."

"I don't," she said, quiet and scathing, "At least, not for its own sake."


	8. Couple 2: Childless

_Still, the couple waited. And as they waited, they discovered something about themselves. They wanted an heir, yes, but they also wanted a child. A child, for its own sake. The woman wanted a baby to suckle, a child around that would smile and laugh, a child that would grow up to walk and run, to dance and play. Even infant cries, heard on the street or in the course of her work, were enviable to her now. There were some days she wanted nothing more than to hear that infant's cry and know it was her own. Her husband shared her desire; he wanted a child, boy or girl, it didn't matter, but a little one, with tiny hands and feet and a presence that would brighten everyone's day. He wanted to share his knowledge, impart his trade, on someone who would outlast him. He wanted small hands that he could watch grow, watch until they were big enough to handle the tools of his work. He wanted to be able to see his child grow up, watch until, at the end, he could stand and give witness. He wanted to be able to say "Yes, I was there. I watched how my child went from a small thing that had to take three steps for every one of mine, to an adult who could match my pace. My child was a delight to have as a small child, and it's a joy now that I can know this child as an adult." He wanted to able to say those words; he wanted to be able to know that one day he could say those words.  
_

_ It was late October, 1983, and their hope was flickering, a candle waiting to be blown out._


	9. A Beginning

"Antony?"

"Still in Italy. Nathaniel's taking more time than necessary."

"Catherine? James?"

"In their home."

"Servants?"

"Walls too thick to hear."

"Ms. Elizabeth..."

"Yes?"

"This is very good alcohol."

"I know, Riku. I know."


	10. Couple 3: Their Son

_In another, far happier, corner of the world, a man and a woman, married since 1978, watched as their three-year-old son took his first steps in his father's native homeland. Golden light fell on golden hair as the boy ran ahead, coming out from the building's shadow and feeling the warm, powerful sun. They smiled when they heard his delighted cry, and joined him, feeling the energy from that sun flow through them._

_ Then the white lights came, flashing before their eyes faster than one could blink. And the shouts, the vies for attention. What before was a simple family suddenly became the exclusive focus of the whole, clamoring, chaotic, group – and, through their lenses, they became the focus of the entire world._

_ The parents were old pros at this. The son, on the other hand..._

_ He surprised both of them when he raised his head, smiled, and said, in an accent so nearly perfect it would break the nation's heart: "Hajimemashite."_

_ 'Pleased to meet you all.'_


	11. A Continuance

"How long has it been now?" she asked, hands coming to a rest on his shoulders.

"A little over a month, I believe," he answered.

"It will have to end soon, Riku."

"Because Nicole will soon be well enough to leave the hospital?"

"Yes. Who knows what will come out of her mouth when she's asked for an interview?"

"So what will you do?"

"Dr. Warmbrodt has had a very colorful past. That can always be used for our advantage."

"You'll blackmail her psychologist?"

"No, _baka._ The only reason he was able to get a doctorate...no, the only reason he was able to enter college at all was Palone charity. I'm...quite sure that he remembers just _how_ he earned that charity. Truly, the real work was over the moment he was assigned her case."

"But that wasn't by chance, now, was it?"

"Riku...you have a frighteningly poor ability at remaining silent at unpalatable truths."

"My apologies."

"It's quite all right. So long as that mouth is always shut in front of others, that is. Care for another glass?"

"That _is _quite excellent wine you've managed to procure."

She smiled, took a glass in her hand, filled it, and passed it to him before repeating the process with another glass. He raised his glass in a toast, and she followed his movements, if with an uncertain look on her face.

"To the future."

She nodded her approval. Their glasses clinked together, and then were drained.

The next morning would find the bedsheets in the dumpster, and the wine conspicuously hidden.


	12. Palone: 2

_After Nicole Wilson's suicide attempt, but before his public admittance of partial sin, Nathaniel Palone retired from the public eye for five weeks to a family estate outside of Tuscany, Italy. There, he waited for Catherine, matriarch and power behind the Palone family, to issue her opinion on the predicament, which would be followed as if it were a decree. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long – she was normally so quick to tell anyone with half an ear what was on her mind. And yet at the end of the first week, there was no message, no fax, no email, no call, no personal presence by the woman herself. Nathaniel, quite understandably, became nervous and he called the one who had helped him a thousand times throughout his childhood. At the beginning of the second week, the eighth day of his stay in Italy, he called Antony, his older brother._

_ Antony Palone handed over his business to his wife, Elizabeth, and flew to Italy, in what he thought would only be a few days' vacation to calm his tightly-wound younger brother. But when he arrived he found a broken man — one convinced that he had forsaken the love of his life and that his family had forsaken him in turn. Protective instincts kicked in; he stayed for longer than he thought he would. So when Catherine called to finally pass her judgment on her womanizing son, she found that she could only speak with his brother. And all Antony would say is that Nathaniel was being rather irrational about the situation, and needed some time. Catherine acquiesced, and left her sons alone for a few days more, another week.  
_

_Within that week he had Nathaniel thinking again, but the two stayed even longer in Italy. It was far more refreshing than either of them realized, to not have to work. Both had been raised with a strong work ethic (indeed, the only 'ethic' that the Palone family taught their children) and it had never occurred to either of them that they could simply _quit_ for a little while. Antony continued to lie to his mother, Nathaniel continued to play the guilty ex-boyfriend. When the acting was done, the curtain down, they retired behind closed doors and shut windows, drank, and squandered their time.  
_

_Eventually, their play came to an end. But not before they indirectly brought about the next great Palone scandal._


	13. A Discovery

Shock flowed through her body. _This couldn't be happening. _What she was seeing, what she was witnessing, what the intuition in her firmly told her was true...couldn't be. But even though every rational part in her told her it was untrue, false, a lie, the knowledge settled itself within, and she couldn't bring herself to deny it.

She exited the claustrophobic room and slipped through the hallways, back to the sitting room where she had been having a rather strained conversation a mere moment before. Numbly, she reached into her purse, drew out the object that she kept around only for nostalgic purposes, the one thing she thought would never have a use, and walked back to the tiny room.

There, she found the woman, trying to put one shaking foot beneath her as she attempted to stand. With a firm hand, she guided her back down to the ground, her knees braced on the cold tile. There was still fight left in the other woman though, and she struggled against the pressure, but with that keen mind focused on something else, it was all too easy to overcome the halfhearted attempt. Then, with the same firm intentions, she pressed the object in sister-in-law's hand and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

She had bought two when she thought she was pregnant with her youngest. Mostly because she wasn't thinking straight, also because she had craved a second opinion before she even knew the first. She already had five children, one was still breast-fed, and she didn't think she had the time, energy, or desire for a sixth.

But her husband had been so excited over each and every child, caring for each one and never growing tired of the many long months of hormones and the even longer hours of childbirth. The look on his face when she told him the news each time was the breaking factor in her decision to keep the youngest. Even when her husband was wrenched from life, she still held to what she knew he would have wanted. But things like that can't be kept up forever.

While her husband was still alive, he managed her business while she took care of the children. It was an arrangement that had suited her perfectly, and she found that she could not return to management after being a mother. And so when her family had called on her to do the job of the heir, the job her husband had done every day for fifteen years then, she refused. She "retired," moved into a smaller home, and dedicated her energies into raising her children. She lived on her husband's social security, the financial arrangements he had made in case of his death, and a grudgingly given monthly allowance from her mother. Her prudence as a mother kicked in here, and throughout the years she gradually rid her life of everything that didn't have a purpose, and that included the things that were now useless because they had once been his.

And so it came to be that the only reminder of him that she kept around was the extra pregnancy test she bought that day at the drugstore, if only to reminisce of that glorious face he showed her when he realized she was pregnant again.

_Hard to believe that it would come to use again, huh?_

Admittedly, she had been waiting for Antony and/or Elizabeth to announce the upcoming arrival of the newest Palone ever since they came back from their honeymoon. But she had thought that, with Antony in Italy conciliating Nathaniel for the past month without a single visit between the two, it would be impossible for a little while. And, really, why wouldn't it be? Who could expect the self-contained, level-headed Elizabeth to have an affair?

_This may be morning sickness, _the rational part of her argued, _but that doesn't mean that she had an affair, does it? She could have conceived before he left._

_No,_ her intuition told her firmly, _No. This is not Antony's child. She wouldn't act like this if it was.  
_

She heard the water run through the pipes, and, sighing, she opened the door again. There, she found her sister-in-law of only eleven months, pregnant with her lover's child. She didn't need to look at the test itself to know that now.

"Can I ask you to call a family meeting?" Elizabeth asked, voice unnaturally distant.

Jacqueline inhaled, already regretting the child's fate, but truly having no choice. Pregnancy wasn't exactly something a woman could keep from the world for long. "Of course. Would you rather meet here or at Mother and Father's house?"


	14. Couple 2: Pregnant

_On the 29__th__ of December, 1983, the woman conceived. But neither she nor her husband had the faintest inkling until the next week, when her menstrual cycle skipped. After tests and blood samples and ultrasounds done by the doctors, they had the official word, and they were ecstatic. The next nine months was the most hectic, turbulent, and blissful time in her life. Later, when old age would set in and the past became more real than the present, the two would sit together for long periods in the evenings, and the husband would mention that he had never seen her smile so much before or since as she did during her pregnancy._

_ The child was born on the 29__th__ of May, 1984. He was a boy._


	15. A Conference

The two sat on opposite ends of the table, using it as both a buffer from the others' attacks and the battleground on which they fought for their own ambitions. Both sat down at that table completely aware of the others' intents, opinions, and favored outcomes, and aware that the other knew the same about themselves. They were, after all, businesswomen, at the end of the day. On that mutual ground, they completely understood each other. On any other, though, they found themselves disagreeing, violently.

"And?" was how Catherine began the conversation.

In reply, the younger woman only raised an eyebrow, encouraging her mother-in-law to finish her thought.

"What do _you_ wish for, Elizabeth?" Catherine asked, her voice treading the perfect median between emotionless apathy and biting sarcasm, "We can hardly hold this meeting until we know how you wish to continue your life...and the life of your love-child."

Elizabeth held her silence for a moment longer, regarding the older woman through dark eyes. "I wish only to remain a part of the Palone family. Everything else I leave to your discretion." She bowed her head out of respect, a habit left over from her life in Japan.

Catherine watched the motion, turned that thought over, then turned to her next quarry. "Penny for your thoughts, Antony?"

He, too, did not begin speaking immediately, but not out of the antagonism that had silenced his wife. No, Antony, the heir to the Palone fortune, the shark of the board room and terror of a hundred thousand employees, was still reeling from the news and distrusted his ability to speak rationally. _That was what they taught in Business 101, after all: Don't speak unless you know what will come out of your mouth._

"All I want..." He began, then stopped. "I..." He found it a struggle to communicate his thoughts, a struggle to even _think_ said thoughts. "It..." He stopped again, his head, formerly spinning around a constellation of emotions and thoughts, was now a wasteland from which he could gather nothing that could help him now. He spoke again, this time a whisper, "I don't know."

Both women straightened at that, both weighing those words against what they were aiming for, and both realizing what would only later occur to everyone else present: that it was with those words that Antony had forfeited his right to have an opinion about the situation, both within the actual meeting and without it.

"What are _your_ thoughts, Mother?" Jacqueline ventured, knowing that the longer Catherine sat on her own cards, the more weight those cards held.

"My own?" She appeared to be taken aback by the question, as if she hadn't been expecting it, "_My _opinion seems to be superfluous here. I am not the pregnant one here, nor the cuckold."

Antony winced, and ducked his head. _Cuckold. _He hadn't known that word would ever apply to him.

"Easy, Cathy," James said, "We won't gain anything by insulting each other now. The media will do enough of that."

The matriarch bristled, but quieted. She contented herself with staring with empty eyes at the family gathered around her. Nathaniel, having only arrived from Italy that morning and been given his final instructions as how he should behave in public and what he should say at the press conference that would be held in two days time, flinched when her gaze landed on him. Throughout the conference, his would be the only voice that was not heard.

"What are my options?" Elizabeth asked, voice perfectly even and toneless. She kept her posture supernaturally straight, and kept her chin lowered. She knew she was at the disadvantage here, and that she would be lucky to escape this whirlwind unscathed. Knowing all this, she continued to play her hand close to the chest, and was quick to see every new detail that she could possibly manipulate. The force of nature that had intrigued Antony in the meeting room was now giving a belated encore performance, and at precisely the right time.

"If _I_ may give my opinion?" James said, looking between his wife and his daughter-in-law, patiently waiting for the resistance from one end to begin. "The public knows that Antony has been in Italy for five and a half weeks. But Elizabeth's whereabouts were only guessed at. And so, if it were to get out that during that time Elizabeth had been secretly flying out to Italy, whenever she had the opportunity, that might be enough to salvage a great deal of this situation."

"But if she's been consistent enough in her work schedule, her employees will know that that's impossible," Jacqueline said, wincing as she remembered how _her_ employees always seemed to know more about her personal life than she found comfortable.

"That's not a concern," Elizabeth said, voice low, "My schedule has enough holes in it to make the story plausible."

"And the servants?" Jacqueline continued, this time addressing Elizabeth, "They would know more about you the times you were out of the house than your employees."

She thought for a moment, index finger bouncing on the wood of the table. "No, I also don't believe they will disbelieve it. Only a few twenty-hour holes are needed, correct?"

Jacqueline hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"So they saw each other a few times throughout this last month, and Elizabeth is pregnant because of that," James stated, confirming the bare skeleton of the story that would later be given details, fleshed out and made so believable that even those who knew better would doubt themselves. Elizabeth gave a tiny, accepting nod.

"I believe you all are forgetting another option," Catherine intoned. Every eye turned to her, every beating heart dreaded the words she had to speak. That is, except for Elizabeth, who merely waited patiently, as one would before a petulant child.

"A discreet abortion will solve the problem rather well."

Jacqueline straightened, mouth opened, ready to voice a protest, but she didn't speak. She had spoken out publicly several times against abortion, and was personally horrified by the idea. But this was not her child, and she couldn't speak out against it if Elizabeth agreed.

_I know what you're thinking, _Elizabeth thought, face still unreadable, _Antony is your heir, and I am Antony's wife. By circulating the story that James has submitted, the Palone family will be accepting this child as the heir to Antony, your heir. The next family heir. And you cannot consent to that, can you?_ _The idea that a child born of wedlock becoming the head of the family._

But though she so wanted to contradict the matriarch, she held her tongue. She had relinquished her right to decide her child's future when she had secured her own. And Catherine was probably looking for just some pathetic excuse to pounce on.

"That's unnecessary," James said, frowning, "It's a risk both for Elizabeth's health and for the fact that it may catch public attention. We may survive this without scandal, but not if our new bride is caught getting a back-alley abortion not even a year into her marriage."

"There _are_ discreet venues," Catherine pointed out, annoyed by her husband's interference.

"None are discreet enough," James returned, firm in only this one point, "And it's hardly necessary. The story will be better protection than anything else. I'm sure there will be some group of young women who will fall in love with the story of secret trysts, which would be perfect to boost our cosmetic and apparel sales."

Catherine pursed her lips, but gave up the argument.

"So," Jacqueline said, a note of optimism injected in her voice, "Elizabeth has been flying out to Europe in this past month to see Antony. Someone notify the presses."

_But it would help if they at least looked like the kind of couple to rendezvous like that, _she thought, noting the way they sat apart from each other, both locked on their individual thoughts. She had barely looked at him throughout the meeting; he hadn't looked at anything at all. _Have they had any time alone together since Antony arrived? If not, I'll have to make arrangements. We can't have them appear in public like that when they look so...dysfunctional.__  
_


	16. Palone: 3

_Alexandra Palone was born the 14__th__ of August, 1984. The story of her conception was spread, firstly, by Palone family servants, and from there it circulated beyond, in ever-increasing circles, until, finally, Antony and Elizabeth Palone confirmed the pregnancy, and dropped subtle hints that also confirmed the lie that everyone believed. Catherine Palone smiled and merely voiced her joy at having another little one to call grandchild._

_ The play was cast, as was the die. At the public's enthusiastic response, the Palone family breathed easy, and enjoyed the profit boost that James predicted. Suddenly, the only thing they had to think about of this whole mess was when and how they would tell Alexandra herself._

_ That is, until Beatrice Contadino, the maid at the Palone estate in Italy, fell in love with a man who was shortly moving to New York City to join his cousin in a jointly held business selling reproductions of Italian Renaissance paintings to Korean-Americans. James Palone, feeling charitable, gave his blessing to the young couple and transferred the girl from Tuscany to his own New York residence so that she could be near her loved one. There, she talked to her coworkers, and eventually found the discrepancies that would eventually collapse the whole farce. It just so happened to work out that there wasn't a single time that coincided between the testimonies of the American staff and the Italian that would allow enough time for either one of them to fly across the ocean, meet the other, and then fly back. In due time, a reporter would discover this, and the rest, as they say, is history._

_ Catherine Palone, infuriated by the sudden reversal of public opinion, immediately turned on Elizabeth Palone and Alexandra. After a few tumultuous months of paparazzi and tabloid releases, Elizabeth volunteered to remove herself from public eye for a period of time. Catherine seconded that proposal, and insisted that the two of them – Elizabeth and Alexandra – leave the country, where the greatest amount of attention was focused. Elizabeth consented, and, on the 18__th__ of April, 1987, she took her two-year-old daughter and left for her home country. _

_ The only memories Alexandra had of her birth family and home were the subconscious ones that only a small child would collect, and hers were filled with a mother who was more relaxed and a house that looked like a castle._


	17. A Meeting

"I really don't care what you do, but there are a few things that have to be said. I do not want to come find you, I do not want to arrange anything for you, and, above all, I do not want to apologize for you. If you can live within those boundaries, you can do what you like."

_Mother may have said that, but does that mean I'm allowed to go outside?_

She dragged her low table through the glass doors, and set it against the edge of the balcony railing. At that very moment, another fantastic marvel rolled by on the street perpendicular to the one her balcony overlooked, and if she craned her neck she could see everything from the top point to the people walking with it on the ground.

It was red, this marvel, and it almost looked like a house, but houses weren't on _wheels_, were they? And all the houses she had ever seen didn't have people hanging from the rooftops. Slowly, the marvel moved beyond her field of vision, and she tilted and turned her body, trying to get another look at it. She had only ever heard of such things in books, legends and stories, and though she had dreamt about wonders, she never thought she would see one with her own eyes. And now that these wonders were parading themselves before her, she could only think that this was all some fantastic dream.

"Miss Marina?" she asked, wanting to share this moment with her babysitter. Hearing nothing, she raised her voice a little and called louder, "Miss Marina?"

She heard bustling from the other room, and, snatching one more look at the spectacle on the next street over, she jumped down from her perch and ran to the other room, where she saw the woman in question fidgeting on the couch, the clock the absolute center of her attention.

"Miss Marina?" she asked again.

"Hmm?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from the clock to look at her charge, "Oh, I'm sorry, Alexandra. What were you saying?"

"What's Mr. Clock telling you, Miss Marina?" she asked, hoisting herself up on the couch and sitting next to her.

Marina smiled, but it wasn't the smile that Alexandra was used to seeing, and it worried her four-year-old mind. To her, it looked like Marina would rather be crying than smiling. It was most certainly not a real smile.

"Mr. Clock is telling me that I am going to be very late," she replied, a sing-song cadence rippling underneath her words, the tone she always used to talk to Alexandra in.

Alexandra was baffled. No one was ever _late _in her world. Even her mother, who would often stay at the office longer than she would be at home, was never _late._ _Late _was a concept that existed for people who had a reason to be someplace.

"Why would you be late, Miss Marina?" she asked, trying to puzzle out this mysterious _late_ness.

Marina fidgeted, unsure how much truth she should tell this girl.

"Because I told someone that I would meet him someplace, but if your mother isn't home soon, I won't be able to meet him there."

"Why not? Mother wouldn't care if you left a little early, you know that."

Another smile-that-was-not-a-smile crossed Marina's face, this time even less of a smile.

"But it's my job to stay and watch you while your mother is gone, Alexandra. I can't just leave in the middle."

"Oh." Alexandra was silent for a while, still feeling like this _late_ mystery was not solved, but she couldn't think of any solution to it. "But it's not fair if you're_ late_ just because Mother isn't home right now."

Marina shrugged, then forcibly brightened. "But, you know, if your mama comes home soon, then I won't be late at all."

"But you never know when Mother's coming home," Alexandra said, a pout-frown appearing on her face. The more she thought of it, the more she didn't like this _late _concept. It wasn't Miss Marina's fault if she couldn't make it on time if she had to wait for Mother to come home, was it?

A loud shout sounded outside, and a chorus of cheers echoed. Alexandra looked up, thinking of her marvel, and, _late_ slipping out of her mind, dashed into her bedroom, hoisted herself back up on her table-perch, and watched as another wonder rolled through the next street over. _I wonder if one day I'll be able to see one of these things up close, like everyone else._

"Alexandra?" Marina called, turning away from the clock only to find herself suddenly abandoned in the living room. Amused, she followed her charge into the other room, and smiled when she saw the delight on her face. She was absolutely absorbed in the spectacle on the streets, and would probably die for a chance to see it all.

_Wait a moment..._

Hesitantly, Marina asked, "Alexandra?" The child looked around, obedient to her guardian's request but also impatient to turn back to her marvels. "Would you want to come with me?"

"Come with you?" Her head fell to one side; she didn't quite understand Marina's question.

"We decided that we would meet a few blocks away, so it's not that far. All I'll say to him is that I can't be with him now and to meet up again in a few hours. As long as you stay in my sight the whole time, you can come with me. And your mama can't say anything about me not doing my job, can she?" She winked.

And that was how Alexandra Palone stood outside of her apartment for the first time in her memory (which, at four years old, wasn't much, admittedly.)

Perhaps it was for the best that Alexandra had been so reluctant to go outside, since it was only a few moments before she spotted something from the corner of her eye and was waylaid. Marina, believing her charge to be dancing a few feet out of sight, but always within earshot, didn't notice her absence until it was just a moment too late.

Another roar from the crowd brought Alexandra's attention away from the trinket in the window shop to the street, and she saw the third marvel of the evening, and it was bigger and better than both of its predecessors. Her mouth fell open at the sight, and she unwittingly took a step closer. _It's so pretty._

Totally enthralled with the object of her utter delight, she didn't take any note of her surroundings until it turned the corner, and was lost from her sight. _Then_, in that first clear-headed moment, was when she noticed that Miss Marina was nowhere to be seen.

She frowned at the problem, and fingered the key to the apartment in her pocket, the one that Miss Marina had given to her before they left in the exact scenario that they might be separated, and was suddenly aware of the fact that she was alone in a crowd of people she didn't know at all. But the fear that any other child would have felt was absent in her, the girl who had never been told that strangers were suspicious or that familiar things were comforting. And though she may have felt anxious, it was only because Miss Marina was probably very upset right now.

Suddenly, something fast-moving collided with her back, and sent her sprawling against the pavement. She felt her lip split when it struck against a raised edge in the concrete, and the key in her front pocket burned an impression in her thigh. Tears threatened, but she sniffled, and suppressed them. Deeply buried intuition told her that she must be happy to be outside, or she may not have the opportunity again soon. Then she noticed his voice.

It was a boy's, she knew that much. And he seemed to be apologizing for something. But though her mind could fill in a few gaps, she couldn't understand his words. It all sounded like the mumbo-jumbo incantation of a sorcerer to her.

She put her hands underneath her, and attempted to right herself, but flinched when her skinned palms grated against the pavement. In the distance, she heard a woman call out, another spell in the magical language. The boy behind her jumped, mumbled something, another spell, and grabbed her hand, yanking her upright. He said something else, addressing her, the words spilling like water and collecting at her feet. She smiled at the sound of the words, of the magic in them, but winced when the gesture brought to attention her lips. The boy brightened, nodded, and, still holding her hand, ran into the nearest side street.

He ducked behind a dumpster, taking her with him. A heartbeat later, a woman came by, still shouting, but she sounded more annoyed than fearful to Alexandra. She passed by, and the boy next to her breathed a sigh of seeming relief, then he turned to her and talked again.

"I'm sorry," she said, smiling nervously, "I don't understand the magic-language."

His face froze for a second, as he took in the words, and then he understood what she had known since the beginning.

_Neither one of us can understand each other._

He frowned, his mind whirling around the problem of communication. She was also thinking of that too, how to talk to this little wizard-boy, but he came to the solution first.

He brought a hand up, waving it around to indicate everything around them.

_"Nihon."_

"What?" she asked, confused. _Nihon?_ What was _Nihon?_

He saw her confusion, and frowned. Then he brought his hand up and pointed upward.

"_Sora."_

She looked up, searching for what he was pointing too, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Only buildings and windows and walls and glass and...

"The sky?" she asked, pointing her finger to the sky too.

He smiled, a bright curve that she would grow to adore, and brought his hand down to the ground. She mirrored his movements.

_"Tsuchi."_

"Ground."

He pointed to the crowd a few feet away. She raised her arm to follow his.

"_Hitori."_

"People."

She fished the apartment key out of her pocket, and showed it to him.

"_Kage."_

"Key."

He turned his finger to himself, and gave his name.

"_Shotaro._"

Leaning forward, he put that same hand on her chest, and looked straight into her eyes.

"Alexandra," she said, and smiled, delighted to have a new playmate, a new game to play.


	18. Palone: 4

_ And that was how their friendship began; through little words, nouns that were only a part of a complete language, but still broadening their worlds. That evening, July 17__th__, 1989, during the highlight of the Kyoto Gion Matsuri Festival, Alexandra Palone and Fuwa Shotaro became instant friends. They talked in the side street for quite some time, sharing their languages, only ending their conversation when a distraught Miss Marina found Alexandra and shepherded her charge back to her home, Shotaro trailing behind the two of them. Marina only noticed his existence when the two said goodbye at the door, but shook her head and thought nothing of it.. The next day, he showed up there, ready to play with his newfound friend, and Marina didn't have the heart to turn him away._

_ Elizabeth was part bewildered by this turn of events ("children" was a subject at which she had never been particularly proficient) and part indifferent (she meant what she had said: her daughter could do whatever she wished.) In the end, Elizabeth concluded that it was for the best that Alexandra had made a Japanese friend. Personally, she refused to speak Japanese with her daughter, and the woman she hired to watch her seemed content to follow that precedent. And, as Catherine's disposition towards Elizabeth's "love child" grew worse, and Elizabeth's own attitude towards her became correspondingly worse, the fact that there was one person who liked Alexandra for herself was, arguably, the only thing that saved her emotional stability._

_ Elizabeth, during this time, was managing a handful of businesses, which was what paid the bills, but that didn't take up much of her time. The majority of her energy was channeled to the negotiations with the Palone family, trying to fight for her place among them. Catherine resisted her on every turn, and the more time elapsed, the more unstable Elizabeth's position became. She became paranoid of the idea that somewhere, there was an attractive girl hanging off Antony's arm, a harlot that would someday usurp her. She hunted down news of the Palone family, viewing each and every photo and film of them at public events, and didn't rest even when it seemed that her husband attended escort-less. She lost sleep, she lost weight, she lost her patience._

_ Time dragged on, for her. For her daughter, it flew._


	19. A Request

It was fall, and both of them were quickly gaining an understanding of the others' language. Shotaro could now name everything he saw in the streets in English, and Alexandra was flying through Japanese, having the advantage that native-spoken Japanese being flung all around here, while Shotaro only knew of one person _(her)_ that spoke English as a first language. But that didn't bother either of them, as they made it into a sort of contest to see who could learn the fastest, understand the best. Often, they would spend hours walking around, talking in a convoluted mixture of Japanese and English, weighing their losses and victories.

And that was here he was now: at her apartment complex, ready to play again with his new friend. But first there was the problem of the door. He frowned at the doorbell, so high up and so out of his five-year-old reach. He knocked instead.

_Someday, _he said to himself, his thoughts already morphing into that bilingual mixture, _Someday I'll be big enough to reach the doorbell._

He waited for the sounds that meant that Lexi would open the door, waited for the quick conversation in English where she asked her babysitter if she could go play for a while, waited for the sound of her feet hitting the linoleum, waited for the sound her pushing the stool against the door so she could open it, and then her smile as she hopped down from the stool, shoved it against the wall, and shutting the door behind her as they began their playdate. He had never been inside her house; she had never been inside his. They used the city of Kyoto as their playground.

And so he jumped when, soundlessly, the door opened, and the little girl he was waiting for was replaced by a full-grown woman.

"You are Fuwa Shotaro, right?" she said in perfect, accent-less Japanese, "Alexandra's running an errand for me now, but she'll be back soon. I'm her mother, Elizabeth Palone." She looked him over. "Come in."

"Okay," he said, suspicion the last thing on his mind. _(What was there to fear?)_ He walked through nonchalantly, head turning as he evaluated Lexi's living space.

Elizabeth shut the door behind him and turned to see him sitting down on the couch in the living room, uninvited. Elizabeth considered him, getting a feel for how to handle him. _He may be a child, _she thought, _but that doesn't mean he can't get the better of me if I'm not prepared. _She exhaled and summoned a vaguely pleasant look on her face.

"Your parents run a ryokan, right?"she asked, taking a seat in a chair across from the couch.

"Yeah," he said, completely trusting of this strange woman that he had only heard mentioned once or twice.

"Have you introduced Alexandra to them yet?" she asked, wondering if she should dumb down her speech for the kid. She was barely used to her own daughter, let alone any friend she might pick up. In the end, she decided to talk to him as she would an idiotic adult, since that was how she addressed Alexandra.

"No," he said, "Mommy and Daddy are always busy, and I want Lexi's Japanese to be _really_ good when they see her."

"Lexi?" She was surprised – the idea of a nickname for her daughter had never occurred to her. Her daughter's name was Alexandra, and that was all there was to be said, in Elizabeth's mind. She brought her mind back to the topic at hand. "Have you introduced her to anyone else? Any other friends, any other adults?"

"No," he said, confused by her question. It was always just him and Lexi walking around Kyoto, playing in the parks, the forest behind his house – he had never thought to bring someone else into their friendship. And why would Lexi's mommy be worried about that? "Why, Palone-san?"

She blinked once. _Palone-san._ It was logical for the kid to call her this, she supposed, as she had introduced herself with the surname _Palone, _and he had most likely been taught to address adults as _-san. _But this was also the first time that her Western name had been followed by a Japanese honorific. Most of the adults she came in contact with would either say _Mrs. Palone _or her Japanese name. _Interesting. _

"Can you do me a favor, then?" she asked, waiting for his nod, "Could you give her a Japanese name? Just something that you can call her by to everyone you want to introduce her to?"

He frowned, more confused now than he was before. "Why does Lexi need two names, Palone-san?"

_Damn,_ she thought, _I hadn't thought of a reason to give the kid._ "Because...Alexandra, or Lexi, is a difficult name to pronounce in Japanese. L's and X's aren't a natural part of the language. You're used to it so you probably haven't noticed, and children seem to be better at picking up that sort of thing. But your parents, and everyone else, won't be able to say her name as easily. I think she'd be less embarrassed if she had a name that was easy for them to pronounce." _Was that a sufficient explanation?_

"Oh," he said, the confusion sliding off his face. She breathed a small sigh of relief, one that wouldn't have been detected even in the Palone family meetings, much less by a brat, "Okay, Palone-san." He acquiesced easily enough – after all, it wasn't that difficult to give someone a name.

"Thank you...Fuwa-kun," she said, smiling at the Japanse honorific. She stood up, ready to end the conversation now that she had what she needed. _And now there won't be any well-meaning busybody gossiping how some 'Alexandra Palone' is running the streets of Kyoto. God only knows how Catherine would react if we brought another tabloid frenzy on the Palones. _"I apologize, but I don't own a television," _stupid, annoying, fruitless things, _"But Alexandra should be coming home from the mailbox across the street from Kitasaga Gakuen, if you'd like to meet up with her."

"Thanks, Palone-san," he said, and stood up to go. He paused, tilted his head as a question came to him. "Palone-san?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning to him once again. _What kind of question is there that a kid would ask that I won't want to answer? Or am not prepared to answer?_

"Why didn't you teach Lexi Japanese?"

_I stand corrected._

"Because..." she began, and then stopped. _This brat already knows Alexandra's full name, she thought, and, even if he was too innocent to realize it, he could ruin everything with just a few words. There is absolutely no reason to give him another weapon to use against me._ _And he probably wouldn't understand the fine details anyway._ "Because...to me, she's American. And the most popular language in America is English. When I command her attention, I speak English to her. Just like when _you_ command her attention, you speak Japanese."

He frowned, confused by her use of the word "command." You can only command something that belongs to you, so...

"So...when she's mine she speaks Japanese, and when she's yours she speaks English?" he asked, his childish mind not understanding the more twisted connotations to the query.

_I suppose that is the farthest his comprehension goes. What is he, six years old? A bit young for all of this._ "Yes, you could put it like that." _Just go. Get out of my hair. Find Alexandra and play with her. _

He nodded once, satisfied with that explanation. _"Bye, Palone-san," _he said.

She smiled, nodded in acknowledgment, and watched him leave.

_So long as he lives up to the promise to give her a new name, I can't complain._

He walked along the streets, knowing that he had seen Kitasaga High School somewhere before, but not quite sure how to get there from Lexi's apartment. On a whim, he turned at a corner, and, recognizing the street, ran down it.

_When she speaks English..._

"Sho-chan!"

_...she's her mommy's._

"Sho-chan! Miss Marina, there's Sho-chan!"

_When she speaks English, she's her mommy's..._

"Sho-chan, why are you here?"

_But when she speaks Japanese..._

"I was coming to get you. Can you play right now?"

_When she speaks Japanese..._

"Go ahead, Alexandra. I'll tell Mrs. Palone where you are."

_When she speaks English, she's her mommy's..._

"Thanks, Miss Marina!"

_But when she speaks Japanese..._

"Come on, Lexi. I have something to show you!"

..._then, she's mine._

He took her hand and ran, and thought about what name would suit her.


	20. Allen Mackery

_When Alexandra's conception was announced, Allen Mackery merely smiled and counted backwards. A birth date in September meant that the child had to have been conceived in January. He didn't need Elizabeth to tell him the significance of _that_. But he said nothing, and gave no indication that he thought anything of it. He kept his head down, kept working, managed Hachiko and fulfilled his duties as Elizabeth's assistant. For the few press conferences where his presence was required, his portion was brief: all they wanted was a quick word, just a sentence from a businessman's standpoint. He performed his part beautifully._

_ During this time, the time between the public confirmation and the labor, he knew that Catherine was considering him as the father of this illegitimate child, but ultimately dismissed the thought. Allen was never told why he was dismissed, precisely, in the same way he was never told why he was a candidate. All he did was exactly what everyone else did: he watched, he waited, he expressed his congratulations._

_ Elizabeth never mentioned her child to him, except when her responsibilities as an expecting woman or mother conflicted with her duties as a chairman, a CEO, a boss. He followed her lead, and they never spoke privately about the daughter that nearly ruined everything. Indeed, after she announced her pregnancy, they never freely spoke to each other again. He had a ballpark estimate of her feelings on the matter, just as he had a ballpark estimate of the affluence of the underground organizations that Elizabeth so favored. And, just like those organizations, he had no definitive statement, nothing that was in no unclear terms._

_ Frankly, he preferred it that way._

_ And, when he came to the moral question of sleeping with a married woman, he explained to himself that it was mere morbid curiosity that led him to her bed. He wanted to know if she really _did_ have cold eyes when she woke up after sleeping with a man. Their relationship returned to the way it had always been, and he was quite content. The future held everything he could play for._

_ Then her world crashed. The paparazzi, the reporters, the tabloids, the press, the people who wondered what kind of woman would marry such a wonderful man and then cheat in the first year of marriage. Allen merely stood aside and let the insults fly through the air past him, let them continue on their path to her, and did not once attempt to quiet the rabble. She would never have trusted him again if she believed that he he didn't trust her to handle this situation on her own._

_ He only saw the daughter, Alexandra, a handful of times before the pair of them left for Japan. After that, it would be quite a while before he saw Elizabeth. And he would never see Alexandra again._


	21. A Ceiling

_ Why was she crying?_

_Why?_

_ And who would make someone cry like that, and just walk away?_

He was lying in his bed, his mother had already kissed him goodnight, and he couldn't sleep. The questions kept buzzing around his mind, knocking into his skull and jostling him from his very core. He couldn't find an answer. He wouldn't find an answer. He didn't want to find an answer.

Somewhere, in the paint on the ceiling, was the image of a girl, only five years old, a girl he knew very well, kneeling on the floor crying. He had stared at her for so long, trying to find the words to comfort her – finding none.

He couldn't say _I know what it's like_, because he didn't.

He couldn't say _It's not like you're the only one in the world who has a mommy like that, _because hie wasn't one of the ones who had parents like hers.

He couldn't say _She doesn't hate you, _because Palone-san may very well hate Lexi. He didn't know.

She had stopped crying, eventually, and had gone home. That didn't mean he still didn't see her. She was right there – on his ceiling.

_When I command her attention, I speak English to her. Just like when you command her attention, you speak Japanese._

_ When she speaks English, she's her mommy's..._

_ You can only command something that belongs to you._

_ ...but when she speaks Japanese, she's mine._

_ Mine._

_ What if I make you mine, all the time?_

_ What if you were never your mommy's again?_

_ Would you stop crying?_

_ Would you?_

_ If I make you Japanese, you'll never cry again, right?_

_ And your mommy wants me to give you a Japanese name anyway...she must _want _you to be Japanese. (She must want you to be mine.)_

_ All right then, I'll give you a name. A _totally_ Japanese name. A name that makes you belong to Japan. (A name that makes you belong to me.)_

_ I know, I'll name you after the city. _京都 の 子. _Kyoto no ko. You'll belong to the city, you'll belong to Japan...(and you'll belong to me.)_

_ But that's not really much of a name, is it? People will still look at you weird if you say you're "Kyoto no ko."_

_ But, hey, you know, "Kyoto no ko" can be shortened. Yeah, that's right. Instead of "Kyoto no ko" we can just call you __京子. __"Kyoko." That way, when people ask "Who are you?" you can say "I'm Kyoko." That's not a weird name at all...(and only I will ever know your real Japanese name.)_

Sometime after that thought, he fell asleep content, ready to see her again so he could tell her about her new name.

* * *

**A/N: I hope everyone's computer can read Japanese characters. I promise, there will only be a few left though, so it's not that big of a deal.**


	22. Palone: 5

_On December 20__th__, 1989, a national news station ran a story that the Palone family was considering divorce, and the whole country gobbled it up. Mothers clucked their tongues and said that it was a shame, but a fine young man such as Antony shouldn't be married to such a woman. Fathers grunted and asked the rhetorical question: Why didn't they think of this sooner? Children frowned and asked their parents what "divorce" was. Across the Pacific, Elizabeth Palone watched in horror as Catherine Palone sat calmly, voicing her regrets about the affair but also hinting that it could free her son. After a few relentless days of calls and conversations with everyone from Allen to Catherine, her frustrations finally turned to her daughter._

"Worthless! Why did I have to sacrifice my life for someone so worthless?"

_On December 23th, 1989, Alexandra Palone cried for the first time about her mother. It would not be the last._


	23. A Name

"What's this all about, Sho-chan?" she asked, that American accent just barely noticeable in her voice.

"Just close your eyes and wait, okay?" he said, bouncing from one foot to the next, waiting for her to do what he asked.

With a smile, she closed her eyes and clamped her hands over her face for good measure. He waved his hands in front of her face, to see if she really could see and was just acting like she couldn't. When she didn't move, he knelt on the ground in front of her and wrote in the snow:_京子_. Kyoko.

"Okay, Lexi. You can open your eyes."

Instantly, her hands were at her side and her eyes wide open. He pointed to the ground, and she looked.

"What does that say, Sho-chan?"

"What?"

"I can't read that. What does it say?"

"You can't..." He could have hit himself. He had only ever taught Lexi katakana characters, because that was the alphabet that you wrote foreign words in. But the name he had given her was in kanji. "Hold on one moment."

Underneath _京子 (Kyouko)_ he wrote キョーコ _(Kyouko)_, in katakana.

"Kyo...ko?" she asked, reading it with a little trouble.

"Yep! That's your new name!" he said, proud of himself.

"I get two names?" she asked, smiling.

"Sure! Your mom said that I should give you a Japanese name, so that it would be easier for people like my parents to say it. Grown-ups can't say 'Lexi' apparently."

"Oh..." she said, understanding, and then, pointing to herself, asked: "Kyoko?'

"Kyoko!" he repeated, grinning like a fool.

She threw her arms around him in a childish hug. "Is this like a Christmas present?"

"Huh?" he asked, returning the hug without a thought.

"My new name? Is this your Christmas present to me?"

"Sure..." he said, and then an idea came to him: "In fact, it can be your birthday present too!"

"But...Sho-chan, my birthday is in August. This is December," she giggled.

"_Lexi's_ birthday is in August. _Kyoko's _birthday is today, December 25th. You get two birthdays too! Happy birthday, Lex...Kyouko!"

She frowned, upset with something. Her lower lip trembled, and he jumped slightly, afraid of her crying again.

"Wh-what's wrong?" he asked.

"I didn't think of another name for you!" she cried, "I didn't even get you a Christmas gift!"

* * *

**A/N: Basic Japanese lesson of the day: There are three different alphabets, kanji, katakana and hiragana. Kanji are the characters that were taken from Chinese long before any of us were ever born, and look like miniature works of art. Katakana is the alphabet used to describe foreign words (words taken from English, French, German, etc.) Hiragana is...basically used for everything else.**

**In Japanese, first names can be spelled using any of the three alphabets. For instance, Mogami Kyouko:** 最上 キョーコ. **"Mogami" is the first two characters, "Kyouko" are the last four. But, for her stage name, she goes by just Kyouko, written in Kanji: **_京子_


	24. Couple 2: Parenting

_Shotaro's parents, always busy with the ryokan, entrusted a few areas of the house and grounds for their son to play in, and checked in on him whenever work allowed them a few moments' break. But sometimes, a few hours would elapse between those few moments they could steal to check on their son, and over time, he knew when those hours would be. These were the times when, intuitively knowing that his parents wouldn't approve of him walking the streets without a grown-up, he snuck out, and ran to meet Lexi. To him, it was all a game, like tag or hide-and-seek. When he came back, he played with the children of the guests of the ryokan as if he didn't have a friend that they didn't know about. He wasn't hiding it, _per se, _just playing the game. And if his parents heard the name "Alexandra" or "Lexi" thrown about, they thought that Shotaro was referring to just another guest's child._

_ But the next day, December 26__th__, 1989, he asked his parents if he could have a friend over. They looked at each other, unaware that their son _had_ a friend who wasn't staying at the ryokan, and, hesitantly, obliged. He smiled, and later, still playing the hide-and-seek game of waiting for his parents to be preoccupied, he left and brought Lexi – Kyouko – to his home. He introduced her to his parents simply as "Kyouko." They accepted her easily, and never had any reason to doubt that her name wasn't Kyouko._


	25. A Television

Cherry blossoms hung heavy on the branches outside. Tourists flocked to Kyoto, intent on seeing some of the best blossoms the country had to offer. The Fuwa ryokan had every room booked solid for the next month, and it was only until after that busy time that it occurred to the okami that she had only one part of her son's friend's name.

"Kyouko-chan," she asked, when the advertisements began on TV "What's your last name?" An innocent enough question, and with innocent intent, but necessary if she was going to introduce the girl to anyone else.

Shotaro, lying on his stomach next to Kyouko, felt his mouth drop open at the question. He hadn't heard his mother come in. No, he hadn't anticipated this question.

"Uhm..." he heard Kyouko begin, "Pa-"

"Mogami," came a low voice from behind his mother. If Shotaro jumped a bit at the voice, Kyouko jumped a mile. Standing in the doorway, behind Shotaro's father, was Elizabeth Palone, cool and calm as if she belonged there. "Her family name is Mogami."

"Mother!" Kyouko exclaimed, a small exhalation.

None of the grown-ups noticed it, but Shotaro tore his eyes from Elizabeth to see if Kyouko would burst into tears again. "Kyouko?" he asked, leaning in to see if those were tears on her face.

Elizabeth, intent to carry on a normal conversation, caught Shotaro's mother's eye, and she bowed in greeting. "I am Mogami Saena, Kyouko's mother. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I would like to talk to you and your husband about a proposition."

"Of course, Mogami-san," she said, recovering from the surprise of suddenly seeing the woman there, "Would you like to meet in one of the dining rooms?"

The adults left, leaving Shotaro and Kyouko, the former staring at the latter, waiting for the tears that he felt were inevitable. She surprised him, though, and settled back in her spot, watching the children's show again. In the end, he told himself that the shining light he saw in her eyes was just the reflection from the TV screen.

* * *

**A/N: In a _ryokan_ (which is a Japanese inn...sliding doors, _onsen_ baths, _tatami_ mats, people in _yukata_s, the whole deal) the woman who runs the place is called the _okami _(usually with an honorific after it like _-san_) while the man who runs it with her is called the _taisho _(also with an honorific at the end.) Kyouko refers to both Sho's parents and the Darumaya couple as _okami _and _taisho. _(The _okami/taisho _names apply to owners of certain kinds of restaurants as well as _ryokan_s.)**


	26. Palone: 6

_The American public waited after the announcement of potential divorce, just to hear the final word. But Antony Palone remained elusive, and never gave any definitive public statement regarding the manner. And for good reason._

_ In one ear Catherine whispered to him, telling him that a woman who has cheated once will cheat again, and that any judge would grant divorce after completing the barest formalities. He was young; he was attractive. There were other women who would be glad to marry him – women that didn't have a track record quite like the one his wife had._

_ But in his other ear he heard Elizabeth's desperate pleas, her dignity forgotten as she practically begged to keep her marriage. And, though she had never quite apologized for the blows he suffered, he couldn't ignore her anguish. "For better or worse..."_

_ Elizabeth, seizing on the opportunity, played the angle. She bargained and promised, reminding him of her worth, of her potential. She used every resource she could, and, in late spring, felt him breaking. She knew, then, that she would be welcomed back to the Palone family, and it was now only a matter of time. But she did not feel very charitable to the daughter that sparked her fall from grace._

_ In early summer, 1989, she approached the Fuwa family, asking if it would not be too much trouble take in her daughter. She implied at strained family connections, she intimated that Alexandra's father was a father she would be better off not knowing, she insinuated that it was for Alexandra's good. They accepted, eventually, and agreed that if Saena had to leave to join her husband's family, she could leave Alexandra, or "Kyouko" as she was known to them, in the care of the Fuwas._

_ It would be a year later, nearly to the day, that she contacted them again, this time to say that it was nearly sure thing. They made plans, signed papers, and in the fall, Elizabeth Palone rejoined her husband and his family in New York. Though the public clamored to know what happened to Alexandra, the only comment Elizabeth would make was that she was "happy and well."_


	27. A Talk

"Alexandra, we have to talk."

"About what, Mother?" The girl was rather anxious, and when she sat down, her hands fluttered in her lap, a nervous habit. _Does she fear me so much now? _Elizabeth wondered, watching the hands.

"In a few hours, I will leave for America. You will remain here."

"How long will you be gone?" Alexandra asked. These visits to America had begun in the past year, and Alexandra had learned not to fight them at all. In fact, though she felt terribly guilty about it, she looked forward to them, because she always went and played at Sho's house all day. She had her own room there now.

"I'm not coming back."

Her eyes widened, tears shone. Elizabeth kept on.

"I will be returning to my family, the home that I was meant to be in for these past years. I will return to my job, my career, and my husband. You, however, will have to remain here. I have already made the preparations."

Alexandra was silent.

"You can do what you like. I don't care. From now on, if you happen to see me, pretend like it is the first time we have met. Do you understand?"

Still, she was silent.

_"Do you understand?"_

"Yes."

"Good. You are no longer allowed to call yourself Alexandra Palone. Your name has been legally changed to Mogami Kyouko. You must call yourself that from now on, to everyone. And tell Fuwa that he cannot call you Lexi anymore. You are Kyouko."

"Then my birthday is on December 25th, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"We...Sho-chan and I...decided that Lexi's birthday was September 14th, and that Kyouko's birthday was December 25th. That was the day he named me Kyouko."

_If she's more willing to go along with the lie, then... _"Then I will legally change your birthday as well, to December 25th." _I'll be sure to forge that before leaving the country. I've committed worse felonies. _"I have made arrangements for you to stay with the Fuwas, but you may leave whenever you like. When I drop you off at their house tonight, that is the last act I will do as your mother. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and then started crying. Elizabeth scoffed in disgust.

"Do you think that when a woman or child cries someone will automatically come to help you? Don't be ridiculous. Life never works that way."

* * *

**A/N: As some of you probably recognized, Saena/Elizabeth's last line is taken directly from the manga, chapter 3, where Kyouko pinches Maria and tells her to stop crying at the LME newcomer auditions.**


	28. Couple 3: Their Night

_In the hills surrounding Los Angeles, the power couple Kuu and Julie Hizuri both took time off work one October night, to spend time together and with their son, Kuon. They spent their mini-vacation watching movies (both starring Kuu Hizuri) and eating the banquet Julie had cooked (to marginal success.) They ended the night playing board games on the floor. Young Kuon laughed and smiled so much that the air around him nearly sparkled with mirth. It was a celebration party, of sorts, one to commemorate the last night of Kuon's innocent childhood and the beginning of his adult career. The next morning, bright and early at seven-thirty, he was to report for his first job as an actor, on the set of a Hollywood movie. _

_ During filming, Kuon would find that acting came harder than he originally thought, be he kept at it. The director and his costars were all understanding enough, and his father was only a phone call away. Over time, he would find himself dialing that phone number more often than he would do anything else. His father willingly gave everything he could think of to his son, terrified of the thought of Kuon failing the role. But, unbeknownst to Kuu, if he had failed then, at that very first movie, had gotten discouraged, and quit acting, he would have actually been spared a great deal of emotional pain in the long run. But, at the end, both the movie and his role in it were deemed a success. His confidence rose. Kuu breathed a sigh of relief._

_ In due time, Kuon would grow to realize that the only reason he was offered jobs was because of his father. He would realize that, purely as an actor, he was lacking every vital characteristic necessary for recognition. When he looked at his own, brief, filmography, the fourteen-year-old Kuon would see only a shallow, gray display. He wouldn't see talent, he wouldn't see potential, and he certainly wouldn't feel proud. He spiraled into despair, and began to explore other avenues that life presented him._

_ But, on that last night of childhood, when he was spread out on his stomach watching his father lose sorely to his mother in Monopoly, the only slightly melancholy thought in his head was that he wished he could share this with a certain Kyoto girl who believed he was a fairy._


	29. A Realization

He wanted pen and paper to connect. No, it wasn't just that. He wanted his mind and music to connect. He _craved _it. The song that he wanted to write was dancing, just beyond his reach, twirling around him and taunting him, saying that it shouldn't take something so trivial as a useless mutt to put him in such an embarrassing state. He was better than this. He should be able to write music no matter what pressure there was from the outside world. There was no reason why Fuwa Sho shouldn't be able to deliver a phenomenal performance. Something like a Beagle shouldn't even register on his radar.

And yet here he was, after three hours, and he only had a few bars of music written to show for it.

_This is so aggravating._

But he didn't let anything show. No annoyance, no aggravation, no irritation, no vexation. He could at least pride himself on that.

Perhaps he was just tired. Traveling, that unexpected meeting with Kyouko, confronting the Beagles, staying up all night...all of that may have just contributed to a temporary inability to write music. It was perfectly understandable. Perfectly acceptable.

_To everyone but himself, that is._

He sighed, put the pencil-tip on the next line, and began writing. He managed to get to the second measure before erasing it all and starting again. He began again, but could only get two quarter-notes down before scrapping the work. He started once more, but couldn't even think of what kind of note he wanted to begin the measure.

_This is ridiculous, _he thought _Perhaps I need another cup of coffee. I saw some insi-_

Something heavy rammed into the side of his head, like a weighted dart hitting a target. His expression slipped, and he looked around, losing patience, for the origin of the flown thing.

His eyes landed on her.

Dark hair, dark makeup, lips pursed together, impeccably contained, eternally controlled, eyes that revealed nothing. Features so similar to _that_ woman's that he nearly called out her name.

_Palone-san?_

Mogami Elizabeth...Saena Palone...she was standing there in the flesh before him.

His rational mind caught up with him. No, no, this couldn't be her. She was in America. She wanted nothing to do with Japan anymore, she only came here on the occasional business trip, and then it was always to Tokyo. This was Karuizawa. No reason for her to be here. And she must be in her forties by now, maybe fifties. She wouldn't look _so young..._

_Kyouko._

He snapped out of it, coming to terms with the rational part of him. He held a normal conversation with Saena-Kyouko for a few moments, (or, as normal as any conversation was between the two of them these days) and did what he came here to do – warn her against the Beagles.

But he wouldn't forget that in that brief moment, his childhood friend whose name it was that he very nearly called out.

_She looks like Palone-san._

_ A lot like her._

_ Enough to be mistaken for her._

_ Scary._


End file.
